Fantastical Fabrications of Frantic and Frazzled Faculties

Excerpts from a number of synthetic realities. Although incomplete, the content may be unsettling.

A giant gymnasium with the world's largest Chuck E. Cheese play structure. Only (somehow) shadier. As soon as I walked into the room, a fight broke out, though it was quickly settled. As is the case with most dreams, the details in the room changed spontaneously. Where giant pyramidal gymnastic pads once stood, a climbing structure took its place. But the one thing that captured my attention remained--a climbing pole that reached about thirty to forty feet upwards. At the top of the pole was a platform, from which you could... well... I don't remember exactly what you could do. But it involved zip-lining or something of that sort back down to the ground. I made my way up the post, bit by bit, but as I neared the top, the pole itself slid back down. Now, there weren't any safeguards to this activity, which made a plummeting pole a bit of a problem. But eventually, I made it to the top, and did some fun little thing to get back down. After I did, however, someone fell from the pole and broke his back. No more pole for me.

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Don't remember much of this one, but what I do remember is that a number of people (including B-Shak and me) were watching some movie in the dark. The next thing I knew, somebody was dead in a pool of blood on the blanket on which we were sitting. (Prepositions. Ouch.) Then the lights were on, and there was blood everywhere. Everybody there had died. Again, I felt strangely proud that I had been in the presence of death. Jordan the Violent rules my subconscious, apparently.

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It's not even halfway through June yet, and already the class-skipping panic dreams have begun. Apparently, though I had attended my other classes (unnamed, of course), I had skipped two weeks to a month of Creativity (which looked very unlike the Creativity I know). This was bad. Especially since I was supposed to be assisting that whole time. Oops. And to make matters worse, I was sitting at a table far from the board with a bunch of people who couldn't care less. After Perini looked, my way, I made a show of taking notes, completely lost without context. So begin the college dreams for the summer...

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You know how, in your dreams, you can remember something happening in the recent past without ever having dreamed it? Well, it definitely sucks when that "something" is something you'd rather not have done. Well, I kinda took the cake with that one. (A little "inapropro," to use a Cornerstone word.)

I woke up, wrapped in the comforter of a strange bed. I rolled over to see a girl standing near the bed, still dressed in her nightclothes. Crap. I knew instantly -- I had, just the night before, rolled in the hay with her. Regret replaced the blood in my veins. We chatted, though I don't remember what about. She was like 16. And if things weren't bad enough, we were at her family's house. Which meant chatting with the parents, too. I experienced the extreme discomfort of knowing I had just committed a colossal mistake, while simultaneously needing to not say that to the present party. Strangely, the parents were pleased with the turn of events. Later, I asked her about my one last shred of resistance to total guilt. "How long ago did your dad drug me?" Her response affirmed that I had indeed been drugged. Way to go subconscious. You have succeeded in establishing my semi-innocence, as well as devising an explanation for my lack of memory of the event. Drugged by a dad so I would sleep with his daughter. Not exactly what lulls me to sleep at night. We'll see what comes next.

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I'll have to remember more details from now on, morbid as they might be.